


and a partridge in a pear tree

by splendidlyimperfect



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Coffee Shops, College, Fluff, Ftlgbtales Happy Holigays, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natsu is a little shit, Pining, Roommates, SO FLUFFY, Sting is pretty but sometimes not very bright, Tumblr: FTLGBTales, and has a massive crush on Rogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidlyimperfect/pseuds/splendidlyimperfect
Summary: It's almost Christmas, and Sting starts receiving mysterious gifts.





	and a partridge in a pear tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisGoldenAfternoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisGoldenAfternoon/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Julia! Enjoy some holiday fluff <3 You're the best!
> 
> Title from 'The 12 Days of Christmas'

“You have to push it further to the left.”

Rogue’s voice was muffled through the branches of the Christmas tree and Sting swore, gripping the trunk and shifting it back a bit. He spit out several pine needles that had fallen on his face, and groaned when his hand came away from the tree sticky with sap.

“Good? It’s gross down here.” There was a rustling sound, then Rogue sighed.

“Too far, back to the right a bit?”

Sting sighed, trying to peer through the branches to see the direction that Rogue was pointing. Honestly, he didn’t know he’d ended up in this position in the first place. Actually, scratch that, he knew exactly how – the massive crush he had on his roommate, and the desire to do everything he possibly could to make Rogue happy. Including being suffocated by a giant pine tree.

“Better?” He winced as a sliver pricked his skin and he brought his thumb to his mouth. Only Rogue’s feet were visible, pacing back and forth. “I’m sure it’s fine. Or are you gonna make me stay under here for the holidays?”

Rogue laughed and crouched down, peeking under the branches at Sting and offering him a hand. Sting slid out from under the tree and stumbled to his feet clumsily, brushing pine needles from his sweater and grimacing at the sap between his fingers.

“You’ve got a-“ Rogue smiled, reaching up and plucking a stray branch from Sting’s hair. The feeling of Rogue’s fingers that close to his skin made Sting’s heart skip a beat.

“Th-thanks.” Sting stood awkwardly for a moment, then turned to look at the tree. A trail of pine needles led from the front door to the corner of the living room where it sat in front of their bookshelf, crammed awkwardly into the already-crowded living space. Sting had known it wouldn’t fit well, but the excitement on Rogue’s face when he’d seen the tree lot had been enough to immediately win Sting over.

“It’s too bad we don’t have any ornaments,” Sting remarked, reaching out and adjusting the multicolored lights. “I’m sure I’ve got a ton of terrible ones that I made when I was a kid, but they’re all at my folk’s place.”

“Same,” Rogue said. “I like it, though.” He turned to Sting and gave him a smile that made Sting’s stomach flip. “Thanks for indulging me.”

“Anything for you,” Sting said before he could think about the words. Heat immediately flushed to his cheeks and he took a step back toward the kitchen. “Any- the thing. Tree. For you, it’s nice. I gotta- my hands.” He held up his sticky fingers, then turned around and dashed to the bathroom, leaving Rogue frowning in his wake.

 

* * *

 

“I think this is for you.” Sting looked up over the counter of the café where he worked, ready to take someone’s order. Instead, an unfamiliar woman stood there, holding out a package. “Someone left it on that table, it said to give it to the-“ the woman consulted the neon pink sticky note in her hand “-‘cute blonde guy behind the counter’.” She smiled at him.

Sting blushed, reaching out and taking the package from her hands. “Thanks,” he said softly, inspecting the box. It was wrapped impeccably in red-and-green paper, with a tiny red bow at the top and his name printed in neat block letters next to it.

“Secret admirer?” The woman asked, smiling. Sting peeled off the wrapping paper curiously and lifted the lid of the box to reveal – a pair of socks. They weren’t anything out of the ordinary – just comfortable, warm, wool socks – but a little note on top of them read _Day One._

“Day one?” he said out loud, frowning at the note. “One of what?”

“Did someone seriously get you socks, man?” Sting’s coworker Natsu leaned over his shoulder and poked Sting in the ribs. “That’s such a grandma gift.”

“Shut it,” Sting grumbled, pushing Natsu away. He looked up to thank the woman again, but she was gone, the door closing slowly behind her as snow drifted in onto the mat.

“Maybe they got you a whole set of socks,” Natsu said, grinning. He swiped the bow from the top of the box and stuck it to his apron. “Twelve days of wool socks. Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”

A customer came to the till and Natsu bounced over to help them, and Sting took the opportunity to take the box into the back room. He didn’t recognize the handwriting on the tag, and he couldn’t think of anyone that would give him socks. To be honest, he couldn’t think of anyone who would give him a gift, period.

He shrugged, tucking the box into his locker and heading back to the front. For the rest of his shift, the words _Day One_ floated through his head.

 

* * *

The next morning, Sting found a package tucked in the mailbox outside the apartment with the same neat printing next to the bow. Inside was a hand-knitted toque in the most garish shade of pink Sting had ever seen. He grinned, tugging it on over his hair and running his fingers over the note that said _Day Two._

“Nice hat,” Gray commented at lunch. He, Natsu, Sting and Rogue were crowded around a table in the cafeteria, sharing a plate of terrible pizza. Sting grinned, reaching up and touching the toque.

“Sting has a secret admirer,” Natsu announced through a mouthful of pizza crust. Sting glared at him, kicking him under the table.

“Oh?” Rogue raised an eyebrow, nudging Sting’s elbow.

“I, uh…” Sting scrambled for something to say. If he admitted it, Rogue would think he was interested in someone else, but if he denied it, Natsu would call him a liar in front of everyone because Natsu was kind of an asshole sometimes.

Then again, did it really matter? Because Sting was sure Rogue was straight, and this crush had to go away at some point, even though it had been almost two years now and nothing had changed. Rogue could still make him speechless with nothing more than a look, like he was doing right-

Sting realized with embarrassment that he’d been staring at Rogue for several seconds without speaking.

“That color looks good on you,” Rogue said, and Sting choked on his pizza.

 

* * *

 

Days three and four brought Sting a pair of mittens and a scarf that matched his toque, which made sense, but the next day he was confused. A bag of marshmallows appeared in the break room at his work, wrapped up with ribbon and addressed as _Day Five._

“Marshmallows?” Natsu said, appearing in the back room and giving Sting a look. Sting shrugged, turning the bag over in his hands as if it would give him an answer. “Any idea who it is?” Natsu slumped down next to Sting at the table.

“No idea,” Sting replied, looking at the note again. The writing was so neat it almost looked typed, and the wrapping paper gave no clues to who it might be. None of Sting’s family lived in the city, and he didn’t really know anyone at school other than Gray, Natsu and Rogue. And it certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Really?” Natsu sounded surprised and Sting looked up at him, frowning.

“Do _you_ know who it is?” Sting demanded. Natsu shook his head just a second too late and Sting grabbed his arm, glaring at him. “You little shit. You _do_ know.”

“I can’t tell you!” Natsu said, holding his hands up in surrender. “He made me promise.”

“Aha! It’s a guy!” Sting grinned triumphantly as Natsu groaned, rubbing his face. “You’re a terrible secret-keeper.”

“Did you really think it was a girl?” Natsu crossed his arms over his chest, on the edge of pouting. “I mean, have you looked at yourself lately? This-“ he gestured vaguely at Sting “-doesn’t exactly scream ‘heterosexual’, y’know.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Sting said, but there was no venom in his voice. He contemplated the gift, trying to figure out who in his life would give him _marshmallows_. He stared at Natsu and wondered what it would take to squeeze the truth out of him.

 

* * *

 

Sting was thoroughly confused. The marshmallows had been followed by a package of hot chocolate, which made sense, but the day after that he found a blanket wrapped up outside his door, which didn’t make any. Day eight had been a Harry-Potter-themed game of Uno, and nine was, bafflingly, a set of mango-scented travel toiletries from his favorite store.

Today’s gift was a book, complete with a post-it-note with the words _Day Ten_ written on it, and it had been slipped onto his chair at the library while he’d been grabbing his essay from the printer.

He peeled the note off to reveal the title – _Lost Stars_. His eyes widened and he opened the book, running his fingers along the pages. He’d been wanting this book since it came out, but Natsu tended to tease him about his taste in young adult novels – particularly the Star Wars ones – so he hadn’t picked it up yet.

He flipped through the pages again, stopping in surprise when he realized something was written on the inside cover.

_There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life._

He blinked, reading and re-reading the words. This person – whoever they were – was quoting Han Solo now? Who was this…

Sting frowned, fingers freezing as they traced the lines of the text. Aside from Natsu, the only person who really knew about his reading habits was… Rogue. And obviously it wasn’t Natsu giving him gifts, since Natsu was stupidly in love with Gray, but it wouldn’t be Rogue either. Right?

But….

A hopeful feeling flickered in Sting’s stomach as he looked at the writing again. It wasn’t as neat as the words printed on the tag, but it  still didn’t quite match Rogue’s handwriting, which Sting was very familiar with.

What was going on? Maybe Rogue was helping someone else out by telling them what kind of things Sting would like for Christmas. That must be it. That made much more sense than Rogue himself being the gift-giver.

Sting closed the book, holding it tightly against him, then quickly began to pack up his things. He was going to find Natsu and get the truth out of him, one way or another.

 

* * *

 

Natsu had, predictably, left for the holidays that morning, and when Sting texted him to ask about the gift-giver, the only response he got was, _Use your brain, you nerd._

When Sting got home that night, Rogue was already in the kitchen, humming along to Christmas carols and taking cookies out of the oven. Sting stopped for a moment to gaze at Rogue – the way the Christmas lights were glowing softly behind him, the stands of hair falling out of his ponytail, the way that he danced across the floor to deposit the cookies on the cooling rack. _Gods_ , he was gorgeous.

Sting shook his head and tried to compose himself. The book weighed heavily in his backpack and he was tempted to pull it out, to show it to Rogue and watch his face to see if he gave anything away. His hands were on the zipper of his bag when he stopped, stomach twisting in knots of anxiety.

There wouldn’t be a reaction, because it wasn’t Rogue. It couldn’t be Rogue.

“Hey!” Rogue looked up at Sting and smiled, and Sting felt the anxiety in his stomach smooth out into a soft glow of contentment. Even if Rogue wasn’t the one getting him gifts, Sting still got to be near him every day, and that was enough.

“Ooh, ginger snaps,” he said, sliding onto the stool on the opposite side of the counter. He reached out to grab one and yelped when Rogue smacked his hand with the spatula.

“These are for my coworkers,” Rogue said sternly as Sting brought his finger to his mouth, pouting. “You can make your own.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that I be allowed to use the kitchen?” Sting asked, raising an eyebrow. “Remember the microwave incident?” Rogue snorted, shaking his head, then picked up a cookie and held it out to Sting. Their fingers brushed as Sting took it and he desperately wanted to believe that the touch lingered for longer than necessary.

“You get _one,”_ Rogue said, giving Sting a look. Sting rolled his eyes and took a bite of the cookie, humming appreciatively.

“So… you going to your dad’s tomorrow?” Sting asked. Rogue usually switched spending the holidays between his parents, who had been divorced since he was little. Sting generally hung out with Natsu’s family – they’d been friend since they were kids, and Sting’s family was all on the other side of the world. This year, though, Natsu’s family was visiting his grandparents in Dubai, so Sting was planning on spending the holidays watching terrible movies and eating whatever cookies Rogue left behind.

“He had a… change of plans,” Rogue said, shaking his head. “And mom’s off in the mountains with her new girlfriend, and Gajeel’s still in Europe, so…” he looked up at Sting with an unfamiliar expression on his face. “Guess you’re stuck with me? If that’s okay?”

Sting stopped with the cookie halfway to his mouth, staring at Rogue. A warm feeling spread through his chest and up to his cheeks as he pictured spending the next few days with Rogue… eating breakfast together, watching movies together…

“Is that… okay?” Sting snapped out of his reverie and looked up at Rogue, who wore a concerned expression.

“Oh, shit… yeah, that’s, sorry, I was just- thinking about the, uh,” Sting fumbled for words and settled for shoving the entire rest of the cookie in his mouth. Rogue gave him a strange look, then shrugged and started to pack up the cookies into a container.

Sting coughed around the cookie, covering his mouth and feeling his cheeks burn red. _Shit._ How was he going to get through the holidays with Rogue without making a complete ass of himself?

 

* * *

 

When Sting woke up on Christmas Eve, a carboard tube was leaning against the inside of his bedroom door. It wasn’t wrapped, but a familiar tag on it read _Day Eleven._ He stumbled out of bed, wiping his eyes sleepily and grabbing the gift.

Popping off the plastic cap, he tugged out the poster inside, then unrolled it to reveal… a map? He spread it out on the bed, frowning at it curiously. The map showed their town and the surrounding areas, and up in the top corner, near one of the ski resorts, a little heart was drawn in red ink.

Sting’s heart pounded and he felt dizzy as he looked at the map, then back at the door. How had it gotten inside his room? He and Rogue lived alone, and- so the only person who could have gotten into Sting’s room was-

Sting stood up, looking at the map again and then heading toward the door. His stomach flipped and as he stumbled out into the hallway, looking down the hallway and smelling coffee. Rogue was already awake. Of course he was, he put the map in Sting’s room. Didn’t he? Maybe he found it outside the door where the secret person had been putting the other gifts, and he just brought it in because he was a nice person. Rogue _was_ a nice person, the kindest that Sting kn-

“Sting?” Rogue peeked around the corner, holding a cup of coffee. “Hey. Uh, I made pancakes. Hungry?” He played with the handle of the mug, not meeting Sting’s eyes.

“Did you…” Sting crossed his arms self-consciously over his stomach, unable to get out the rest of the words. What if he said them and he was wrong? Then Rogue would think he was crazy, and he wouldn’t want to talk to Sting again. Things would be awkward, everything would be-

“C’mere.” Rogue gestured to the kitchen and Sting obeyed out of instinct, sitting down at the kitchen counter in front of a stack of pancakes. Rogue stood on the other side of the counter, shifting uncomfortably.

“What-“

“I was-“

They both started speaking at the same time, and Sting felt his cheeks burn as he waved at Rogue to continue. Rogue swallowed, then reached into his pocket.

“I was gonna give this to you tonight,” he said, and his voice was small. Sting looked up to see that Rogue’s cheeks were pink and he was chewing his lip. “But the… I figured the map would kinda- kinda give it away.”

It _was_ him. Sting’s stomach leaped into his chest as Rogue held his hand out to Sting. Sitting in it was – a key? He took it carefully and looked at the tag.

 _Marmot Basin Resort._ The same place that had been marked on the map.

“It was you? The whole- the whole time?” Sting managed to make eye contact with Rogue, who was blushing furiously now.

“I thought-“ Rogue stopped himself, twisting his hands together. “I just-“

“You knitted the mitts? And the hat?” Sting knew it wasn’t really the question he should be asking, but the idea of Rogue _making_ something for him was…

“Yeah,” Rogue said. “I wanted to- I just…”

Sting looked down at the key again, trying to put the pieces together in his mind. Socks, toque, mittens – for the cold. Marshmallows and hot chocolate. Comfy blanket, board games, a good book. The toiletries. The map.

“I’m an idiot,” he whispered, feeling the edges of the key under his fingers. “You- it’s a holiday.” Rogue nodded without speaking.

“If you don’t want to it’s, I totally-“

“Rogue.” Sting hopped off the stool and moved over to stand next to Rogue, who was chewing his lip. “Of course I wanna- gods, I had been hoping it was you.”

Rogue looked up at Sting with a tentatively excited expression. “Really? Did you- I wasn’t sure if I was being too obvious.”

“The Star Wars book,” Sting said suddenly, eyes widening. _“You need more scoundrels in your life_. You- _Rogue_. Gods, I’m a moron.”

Rogue laughed, and when Sting reached out a hesitant hand Rogue took it, winding their fingers together. “I’ve kinda- I’ve liked you for a while. Like… like _that.”_ Sting’s heart leaped and he squeezed Rogue’s fingers tightly.

“Me too,” he said quietly, delighted by the way Rogue’s face transformed from uncertain to relieved. Rogue’s smile made Sting feel like there was nothing else in the world but him. He took a tentative step closer to Rogue, whose breath caught in his throat.

“So, do you wanna go on holidays with me?” Rogue asked, gesturing to the key that was still in Sting’s hand. “It’s a cabin, I thought- I know you didn’t have plans? And I didn’t want you to be alone, and I thought…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Sting said, letting out a soft puff of laughter. “Gods, yeah, I wanna- that sounds awesome.” Rogue chewed his lip and Sting couldn’t look away, thinking of all the times he’d daydreamed about pressing those lips to his. His eyes flicked over to the hallway where Rogue had jokingly hung a little green branch on the ceiling.

“I, uh, know the mistletoe’s over there,” he said hesitantly, putting the key on the counter and grabbing Rogue’s other hand. “But, I, uh- I mean we could move, but I wanna- can I-“

Rogue interrupted Sting by leaning forward and kissing him. Sting sighed, leaning into the kiss immediately and bringing fingers up to brush through Rogue’s hair and caress the back of his neck. Rogue’s hands made their way to Sting’s hips and he made a soft sound against Sting’s lips. Sting pulled Rogue closer, humming happily at the feeling of being pressed together.

They broke apart after a moment and Sting admired the pink flush that dusted Rogue’s cheeks. “That- you’re…”

“Yeah,” Rogue whispered, leaning his head against Sting’s shoulder. Sting wrapped his arms around Rogue’s shoulders, holding him tight and feeling a sparking warmth spread through his chest. Rogue’s voice was shaky as he added, “good.”

Sting laughed, kissing Rogue’s temple. “Good,” he agreed. He looked down at the key on the counter and picked it up, pressing it into Rogue’s hand. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again. And I believe you promised me a holiday.”

Rogue laughed and his breath tickled Sting’s neck. “I did, didn’t I?” he said. “Wanna go now?”

Sting buried his face in Rogue’s hair, hiding the wide smile that crept across his face. Nothing sounded better than curling up in a cabin with Rogue, tucked under a blanket, drinking hot chocolate and playing Uno.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, let’s go celebrate Christmas.” 


End file.
